


Two goddesses walk into a bar

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Series: 2016 Christmas Fics [5]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Celtic Mythology, Irish Mythology
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: Drinking with mortals is all well and good, but none of them can really keep up.So Morrigan hunts down a new drinking buddy.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tywinning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tywinning/gifts), [Ashesintheair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashesintheair/gifts).



> For [Gemma,](http://girlwholovesherwords.tumblr.com) via me, from [Lauren.](http://joannalannister.tumblr.com)

“Nimue,” the pale woman says, hair dripping and the shadow of a sword in her heart. “That is a name sometimes given me.”

Morrigan nods. She knows more than most of being many-named, and wonders if Nimue was once a goddess in her own right, lost now to this woman’s greater shadow. Her sisters suffered such a fate, after all. It is not beyond imagining.

The Lake seems endless, as such lakes always do. Mananán’s whirlpool seemed the same, once, but it had limits. All things do.

“I have heard many stories of you, Lady,” Morrigan says, flicking away a gnat that seeks to land in the midst of her feathered cloak. There are so many things around this Lake, living and alive and half-born, calling from every world that there is, called by the Lady’s magic. “Of your power. Of your grace.”

“What is it you seek of me, Harbinger?” the Lady says, and Morrigan thinks that’s a little unfair - she was only  _ really  _ Cúchullain’s harbinger, if anyone’s, and even then it was his fault. Mostly.

“Well,” Morrigan says, shrugging just right to turn her feathered cloak into a beautifully cut black coat, lined with her favourite shade of red silk. “I was half hoping you’d come for a drink. I haven’t had a drink with anyone who can keep up with me in  _ years,  _ not since I last fell out with Rhiannon and Manawydan.”

The Lady blinks, swirling robes of mist and shadow turning into the most amazingly daring white fur coat Morrigan’s ever seen, and she steps off the water.

“Good,” the Lady says. “I haven’t had a drink at  _ all  _ since the last time Merlin and I broke up. Lead on, Morrigan.”

 

* * *

 

They end up in some grotty little dive in Cardiff mostly because they couldn’t agree on a fancier bar in a less neutral city.

Morrigan’s spent an awful lot of time in dive bars - unsurprisingly, it’s easier to get away without actually paying when you’re in a shadowy little shithole without an exhaustive CCTV system, and she can’t think of anyone of her close acquaintance who’d actually lower themselves to  _ pay _ for the privilege of getting smashed. 

“So then,” Nimue says, gesturing wildly with her vodka and Cidona and somehow not spilling a single drop. “So then, Merlin gets all  _ I tried to tell him!  _ But he didn’t try to tell poor Arthur, he was boning the hell out of Morgan and was more concerned about Arthur finding out than he was about  _ saving  _ Arthur!”

“I think,” Morrigan says, “that I am absolutely not the person you should be talking about saving heroes with.”

“Oh,” Nimue says, blinking rapidly - what a lightweight! They’ve only been drinking since two, and it isn’t even midnight! “Probably not.” 

She seems to consider this for a long time.

“Was your fallen hero good-looking?” she asks. “I could never tell if Arthur was or not. And it felt odd to even  _ think  _ that about him.”

Morrigan didn’t know what to say to that, so she went to the bar. Another round might finally distract Nimue from  _ fucking  _ Merlin, even if it goes against everything Morrigan stands for to ask for an  _ appletini _ in a  _ dive.  _


End file.
